Until that day comes
by toliveanotherlife
Summary: Merlin has been waiting patiently for over a thousand years, when he finally finds Arthur again. But Merlin has his work cut out for him helping Arthur come to terms with all that has happened and introducing him to the modern era.
1. Chapter 1

It was a quiet Thursday morning at _Tess's coffee shop and Bakery_. Not very many people coming or going, and even less sitting at the small two person tables. It was a dreary day outside, all snow and wind, but it had a sort of peaceful, comfortable feel to it. Like the kind of weather you would snuggle up with a book and a cup of hot tea beside a fire in.

Merlin sat in a corner of the shop, his usual spot beside the big window looking out onto the street. He had his usual cup of cinnamon hot tea sitting beside him on the table next to his laptop. Some days he would have a white chocolate mocha latte, or in the autumn season a pumpkin spice or gingerbread latte, but usually he just had cinnamon hot tea.

"What are you up to today, Merlin?" asked a familiar voice. Merlin tuned to find Chelsea, a senior in college who worked at the shop, standing behind him. Merlin came to the little shop so often that he and Chelsea had become fast friends. She reminded him a lot of Gwen, although she wasn't the Queen's latest reincarnation. Slightly outspoken, but bold and forthright with a good and generous heart. But however much she reminded him of Gwen in her character, they were nothing alike when it came to looks. Chelsea had a kind of elvish look to her. Pale skin, petite, and very blonde. Her green eyes twinkled as she smiled at him and her short hair was escaping it's place behind her small ears.

"Hello Chels", said Merlin with a grin. "I'm not doing much here, just looking at some new telescope models. You know they came out with a digital one? It's fascinating, I just can't wait to get my hands on it!"

"Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, always with your head up in the sky. Why don't you come down for a little bit? Some friends and I are going ice skating tonight. Care to join us?"

"Hmmmm, I don't know Chels," replied Merlin with an air of uncertainty in his voice. "I've got loads of stuff to do tonight..."

"Like what?", asked Chelsea indignantly. "Are you having a wild star-gazing party? Or maybe you'll be busy singing into your hairbrush while you fold clothes."

"Precisely!" said Merlin with a grin. "Those clothes aren't going to fold themselves after all."

Chelsea shot him a steely glare. "You're a rubbish liar Merlin."

Merlin sighed. "Yeah, I've been told before. Of course I'll come tonight. It's not like I have anything of _importan_-", Merlin broke off as a shudder ran through him so violently that his knee banged the table and his tea was knocked to the floor. Merlin didn't care though, because right then his vision blurred and was replaced by the view of a peaceful lake, the shallow water frozen and the ground frosted with snow and ice. A soft glow was emanating from the deep water further out, it's glow growing harsher and warmer as it grew. At that moment a single thought invaded Merlin's mind: _Arthur._

In one fluid motion he jumped up, gathered his coat and laptop, and raced to the door of the little shop.

"Wait, Merlin! What are you doing? Where are you going? I better get a tip for cleaning this mess up!", Chelsea yelled after him.

Just outside the shop sat Merlin's blue Mini Cooper. He yanked the door open and plopped into the seat, fumbling with his keys as he rammed them into the ignition. He peeled away from the curb with a squeal of the tires and raced down the road, towards the old lake of Avalon.

When Merlin finally reached the lake after about an hour of speeding down the country road, all was silent. And not just silent as in no sound. There was no wind, no birds chirping, no bugs buzzing, no waves lapping the shore. Only the sound of Merlin slamming the car door behind him as he clambered out of the car broke the eery stillness. He wrapped himself in his black coat and pulled his red scarf tight around his neck. His feet crunched on the frozen ground as he carefully made his way to the edge of the lake and stared out over the icy water.

He stood like this for several minutes, shivering in the cold. Just as he was starting to think that his vision had been a fluke, a slight glow began out on the lake. As Merlin watched, the light grew bigger and brighter, turning from soft gold to a white so bright it hurt to look at. Merlin heard a loud crack as the ice on the lake split in a jagged line. Merlin squinted and covered his eyes with his arm as the light grew still brighter, turning everything to shades of grey and harsh outlines. Just then a gust of wind, stronger than any Merlin had ever experienced, rushed past him, screaming in his ears. And then, everything stopped. A slight breeze began, making Merlin shiver, and the eery silence was gone. Merlin uncovered his eyes, bright spots dancing in his vision. Slowly he looked up and saw that the cracked ice had mended and even grown thicker. Merlin let his eyes wander up, farther out to the lake. His gaze finally landed on a figure huddled on the ice, his red cloak fanning out around him, his head buried in his knees.

Merlin took a hesitant step onto the ice, wanting so much to go to the figure out there but unsure of what would happen. As he pondered this he took another careful step, and when the ice remained firm, another. Making up his mind, Merlin strode across the ice, having to restrain himself from outright sprinting.

After what seemed like an eternity, Merlin finally reached to person huddled on the ice. Still unsure, he stopped a few paces away. He could see golden blond hair slicked down from water. In fact, the man was completely soaked. Merlin could see that his hands were trembling, and spasms of shivers racked him. Finding his voice, Merlin spoke.

"Arthur?" Merlin's voice wavered. After a moment, the man lifted his head, and turned to look at Merlin with bright blue eyes, full of dismay and confusion.

"Merlin?", he croaked out. "Merlin, is it you? My vision is all blurred, I can't really see anything. What's happened? Why am I soaking wet and so cold? Why-"

With a glad cry Merlin flung himself at Arthur, grabbing at his cloak and pulling him into his arms. He felt a tear escape his watering eyes, and then another. Soon he was sobbing into Arthur's cloak and gasping for breath. Alarmed, Arthur pulled away.

"Merlin, what's happened? What is it? Why are you crying?"

Merlin grinned back at him with tears still spilling from his eyes in an endless flow. "You're back...Arthur, it's been so, so long, and I just can't believe you're finally back." Seeing Arthur's extremely confused expression, Merlin tried to gain some composure. "C'mon," he said, wiping his eyes, "I'll explain everything once you are warm and have something dry on."

Merlin held out his hand to Arthur. He hesitated, but after a moment took the offered hand, and Merlin pulled him up off the ice. As Merlin lead him across the frozen lake, Arthur leaned heavily on him. Suddenly Arthur lost his footing and slipped on the slick ice. As a reflex he grabbed onto Merlin's arm, ripping the material of his jacket as he fell. Shocked, Merlin crouched down next to Arthur.

"Are you alright, Arthur?"

"Yeah, just, uh, a bit dizzy... oh, I ripped your jacket..." he trailed off as he became aware of Merlin's clothing. His expression becoming confused, he asked "Merlin, what are you wearing?"

Merlin glanced down at his grey jeans, black converse, and black V-neck shirt covered by his black coat and red scarf. Considering his next words carefully, he replied "There are a lot of things that have changed, Arthur. It'll be easier to explain after you've seen more of it." Once again helping Arthur up, Merlin continued to lead him towards the shore.

When they finally reached the edge of the lake, Arthur paused, staring straight ahead at Merlin's car parked on the side of the road. Merlin cleared his throat. "Uh, this is one of the things that I was talking about. That's changed I mean. This is an automobile, although most people just call it a car. It's, uh..." Merlin scratched his head, trying to think of an explanation that would make sense to his friend. "It's like a horseless carriage. It runs on oil and gasoline, and to turn it on you have to have a key." Merlin pulled out his key and showed it to Arthur. "See? There are a lot of them around, so you had better get used to them. This one," said Merlin, indicating the blue mini cooper, "belongs to me."

Arthur simply nodded in numb acceptance._ He is going to be so overwhelmed_, thought Merlin as he helped Arthur into the car. All he had seen were Merlin's clothes and one car, he couldn't even imagine how dizzying it would be for him to see the shops, people, and technology all at once for the first time.

When Merlin started the car, Arthur jumped in his seat, eyes wide, and let out a soft curse. He looked to Merlin for reassurance, and when Merlin smiled soothingly Arthur slowly relaxed. Merlin didn't say anything as he rolled back to the road and slowly picked up speed, aware that Arthur would be extremely alarmed if he went the posted speed limit. They rode in silence for a while, Merlin every once in a while glancing over at his friend, finding him tense and stony faced each time. When they came to the outskirts of the town, Merlin slowed to a stop on the side of the road. Arthur looked over at him questioningly. Merlin cleared his throat.

"Arthur," he said, turning to face him, "we are on the outskirts of the town where I live. As I said, there are a lot of big changes that have taken place in the world. I understand that it's all very overwhelming for you, but please don't ask me any questions until we get to my apartment. I promise I'll answer any and all questions there."

Arthur immediately opened his mouth. "What is an apartment?"

"It's like a cottage, except that there are a bunch of them stacked on top of each other. You'll understand when you see it," said Merlin, frowning. Arthur nodded, a slight pucker on his brow.

When they entered the town Arthur stared wide eyed and mouth gaping the whole way to Merlin's home. But he didn't ask a single question, which made Merlin glad. He didn't want to have to think about how to explain everything to Arthur while he was driving. When they finally reached his apartment complex, Arthur just whistled in amazement. Merlin let out a chuckle as he maneuvered through the gate.

There were only a few people out on their porches when Merlin helped Arthur out of the car, for he was still weak and shivering, despite the heater being on the entire way back to town. However, they all stared in mild amusement when they saw Arthur's heavy chain mail and armor, and their eyes widened when they caught sight of the sword sheathed at his side. Merlin chuckled again, catching Arthur's attention. "What's so funny, _Mer_lin?"

Merlin glanced at Arthur, happy to hear the slight enunciation of his name after such a long time. "It's just that your armor is attracting some rather amusing expressions from my neighbors, sire."

Arthur pouted. "And what's so funny about my armor? Do people not still wear it?"

"Actually, no sire. They don't, not for quite a while now..." Merlin trailed off. That comment will evoke some questions, he thought. Just as he predicted, Arthur frowned, asking "What do you mean, _not for quite a while now_?" Merlin sighed and motioned for his friend to follow him up the stairs to his door. He paused when they got to the landing, looked back at Arthur, then shoved the key into the lock and pushed the door open. He stepped in, Arthur following after a moment's hesitation. The king looked around the small den in interest, walking around and picking up things like the television remote and a magazine to examine them. While Arthur was preoccupied, Merlin went in search of something for Arthur to change into. He had actually been so anxious for this moment that he had a small collection of clothing in Arthur's size. He pulled the box of clothes from the back of his closet and sorted through the various garments, picking out a pair of blue jeans and a red hoodie. Heading back to the den, he motioned for Arthur to follow him into the small kitchen, where the table was stacked with telescope equipment and dirty dishes.

Arthur frowned at the mess, shaking his head in mock disappointment. " Really Merlin," he said, "you're my servant, yet you keep your own home like a pigsty." Merlin glared at him and started to clear away the mess. "What's this?" asked Arthur, picking up a telescope lens.

"Don't mess with that! It's fragile!" said Merlin, snatching the piece of equipment out of the king's hand. He set it down gently on the counter and turned back to Arthur, who was giving him a quizzical look. "It's for a telescope..." Arthur nodded in understanding. "Sorry," Merlin muttered.

Arthur watched Merlin as he cleaned the rest of the table off. He had gained more muscle than Arthur remembered him with, and his fitted black shirt made his torso look lean and sculpted. For some reason this amused Arthur, for his servant had always been fairly scrawny. His gaze moved to Merlin's hands, where two spiked leather cuffs circled his wrists. He wondered at their purpose, or were they just there as an accessory, although Merlin had never seemed the type for fashion. His grey pants puzzled Arthur. They were like trousers, but they got slimmer the closer they got to the ankle. They looked odd to Arthur, but he supposed they must be a trend in these days. That thought made him wonder...

"Merlin," he said, "how long was I gone for? What exactly happened? All I can remember is that I was wounded, and you were taking me to the lake of Avalon, then Morgana..." Arthur let his sentence trail off. Merlin turned to look at him with a blank expression, although Arthur thought he saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Fear? Pain? Grief?

Merlin hesitated for a moment, then said "I can't explain right now. Here," he said, picking up a bundle of clothes off the table and showing them to Arthur, "I got you some clean clothes." Arthur eyed the bundle, hoping that these clothes didn't include the strange slim trousers. Merlin laughed at his apprehensive look. "Spread your arms, let me take that armor off."

Arthur complied, his tired arms shaking as he held them up. He felt the weight of the shoulder guard be lifted, then the gauntlets on his wrists came off. Merlin removed the belt and sword, placing them gently on the table with the rest of the armor. Arthur lifted his arms so Merlin could slide the heavy chain mail over his head. Arthur turned around and found Merlin smiling at him. "Better?"

"Much better."

"Good, now take your shirt off and you can put this on." Merlin held up a red hooded garment, with drawstrings around the collar. "It's called a hoodie," he said when Arthur had stared at it a moment without moving. Arthur still made no movement to remove his shirt.

"Oh, come on Arthur, it's warm and it's dry, and actually very comfortable. At least try it!"

Arthur stubbornly stood still, eying the 'hoodie'.

"Don't make me force you into it, because I will."

Arthur still did not move.

With a sigh, Merlin muttered "You leave me no choice then." With that said, he lunged at Arthur. Being tired and weak, Arthur wasn't quite fast enough to dodge the attack. Merlin caught him by the back of the shirt and yanked him back, sending him sprawling on the floor. Straddling him, Merlin began to yank the shirt over Arthur's head. "_Mer_lin!" shouted Arthur. Laughing, Merlin wrestled Arthur's shirt off, Arthur fighting him the whole time. When Merlin finally removed the still soaking wet garment, he got to his feet, still chuckling, and went to drape the shirt over the back of a kitchen chair. Arthur lay there on the floor, shivering and pouting.

Merlin strode back to Arthur and put out his hand. Arthur glared at him but reached up and grasped the offered hand anyways. The warlock pulled Arthur to his feet with a grunt and then held out the red hoodie to him. "It's warm," he said with an amused look on his thin face.

"Hmph," Arthur grunted, jerking the offending hoodie out of his friend's hand. Merlin also handed him the jeans, which Arthur took with the same ill grace and pouting expression as the shirt. Merlin led the king to a room in a small hallway. Opening the door, Merlin gave a mocking bow and gestured for Arthur to enter the room. "Your chambers, sire," he said in a solemn voice.

"Shut up Merlin," Arthur replied with a jab to his servants ribs as he entered the room and the door was closed behind him.

Arthur looked around his 'chambers' with interest. It was a small room, with a twin sized bed pushed back against the wall. The coverlet on the bed was a bright red, almost the same shade as the cloaks that the knights wore. Thinking about the knights brought Arthur's thoughts to the strange circumstance he was in. He had obviously been away for quite along time, but what had happened? Or were they in an entirely different place than Camelot? Someplace far away that he had never heard of? Merlin's behavior was strange too. He was obviously sensitive about the subject, for whenever Arthur broached it Merlin shied away and quickly brought his attention to something else. Arthur shook his head out of his reverie and back to the task at hand, resolving to pry the news out of Merlin as soon as he was done changing clothes.

Arthur walked over to the bed and placed the clothes on it. He picked up the hoodie and began to examine it. The garment was made of a strange material, unfamiliar to Arthur but very soft. Arthur slipped the hoodie on over his head, getting his head stuck in the hood. After a bit of yanking he finally got the infernal hoodie on, and grudgingly admitted that it was indeed warm.

Next came the pants. Arthur picked these up and examined them too. He noted that the material was coarse, but not stiff. They were a faded blue colour, unfamiliar to Arthur. With a sigh Arthur pulled the not-trousers on and found that they were the exact right size. Merlin must have a stash of a clothes just for me, he thought to himself with a quiet chuckle. He fumbled a bit with the button, and wondered at the zipper, but eventually got the not-trousers secured correctly.

After successfully dressing himself in the strange clothes, Arthur proceeded to look about the room. The walls were a boring beige, as was the carpet covering the floor. There was a wooden trunk at the foot of the bed, and carved onto it were depictions of knights, horses, and a raging battle. Arthur crouched down to look at the trunk closer. In one picture was a cliff, and on the edge of the cliff there stood a robed and bearded figure holding a raised staff from which lightning poured forth and struck the soldiers below. The scene looked familiar to Arthur, and after a moment he realized the the scene was from the battle at Camlan against Morgana'a forces, the last battle he had fought...which meant that the sorcerer atop the cliff was Merlin. Arthur had almost forgotten about Merlin's magic, he had been to caught up in the strangeness of everything around him. Now, with a jolt, he realized that his friend must be powerful indeed if he had been able to summon lightning like that.

Arthur stood up quickly, and was rewarded with a dizzy head, reminding him that he was still rather weak. After gathering his composer, Arthur walked to the door and out into the hallway. He found Merlin in the kitchen, staring with an expression that Arthur couldn't quite place at his armor.

"Did you really miss cleaning my armor that much?"

Merlin jumped when he heard Arthur, and turned around with a slightly forced grin on his face that didn't reach his eyes. "Of course not sire. I was actually relishing in the fact that I _don't_ have to clean it anymore."

"Just because people don't wear it doesn't mean that you get to stop cleaning it," retorted Arthur. "In fact, I want to be able to see my face in it by tomorrow morning."

Merlin's grin quickly faded, instead replaced by a steady glare at Arthur. With a huff he spun back around and swiftly but tenderly placed the armor back on the table, muttering something about waiting and loyalty and _this is the thanks I get_. Upon hearing this, Arthur remembered what he had planned on talking with Merlin about.

"So..." he began awkwardly, not quite sure how to phrase his question. "Um, what _happened_ after the battle? I mean, after I passed out? Because all I can remember is Morgana scaring away our horses, and you, you know, killing her, and then there was a lot of panic and you seemed extremely upset but I can't remember exactly what about..." All this came out in one big rush. There was something else, tickling the back of his mind, and it felt like the faster he got it all out then he could catch that last memory before it was forgotten again.

Merlin stared at him with a blank expression, carefully hiding his emotions from Arthur. But Arthur knew Merlin too well for the sudden tension in his neck and flashing of his eyes to go unnoticed.

"_Mer_lin," Arthur said slowly, "answer me."

Merlin let out the breath he had been holding and with it he seemed to deflate. He walked over to the sofa and motioned for Arthur to follow him. Arthur sat next to Merlin while he sat in silence for a moment, listening to the soft breathing of his manservant. The anticipation Arthur felt was building, the suspense almost unbearable. Just when Arthur was about to tell Merlin so, he lifted his head.

Looking Arthur dead in the eye, face a mask of pain and regret, Merlin whispered "You never passed out, Arthur. You..." he swallowed, "you died."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! So here is chapter two, sorry it took so long. Life gets in the way, you know? Well, I guess that's no excuse, but still! And thank you all for the reviews and everyone putting this story on their story alert! That totally made my day.**

**I said this on my profile, but I'm gonna say it again just to be sure. This story doesn't really have a definite plot yet, I'm kinda just making it up as I go (sort of) so I can't promise any regular updates. But just because I'm not updating doesn't mean I'm not writing! So please be patient with me! And thanks again for all the feedback! Now read onwards!**

"You never passed out Arthur. You...you died."

Merlin could taste the words leaving his mouth. They tasted bitter, dry, _wrong_. He still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that his best friend, his king, had died, even after all these years. He had never spoken the words out loud, even when he had had to tell everyone back in Camelot. They had only to look at him to know that something had gone terribly wrong, that Merlin had failed. They never made him actually say the words. Looking at Arthur now, he could see that the pain that the words caused him was apparent on his pale face.

Arthur stared at him with wide eyes, mouth agape. He looked as if he was going to say something, but the words had somehow gotten away from him. Merlin almost wanted to laugh at the

slightly comical expression on his master's face. Almost.

"I-I _died?_" Arthur finally sputtered out incredulously.

Merlin gave a terse nod of his head, not meeting the king's eyes.

"As in I stopped-breathing-and-my-heart-stopped-and-my-spirit-left-my-body _died?_"

Merlin gave another small nod and muttered "I burned your body myself, Sire."

At this Arthur's breath caught in his throat. Merlin looked up, slowly raising his eyes to meet Arthur's. What he found was an expression so sad and confused that it brought tears to his eyes.

For a moment he just stared at Merlin like this, then finally he let out the pent up breath. "If you

burned my body, then how...?"

Merlin cast his eyes back down, looking intently at his feet, brow puckered. He had been expecting this question, he knew. But that didn't make it any easier to force out the explanation. Even he still found it extremely hard to believe, when he had lived to see empires rise and fall, wars and alliances, passed century after century. And here was the living proof that it wasn't all just a surreal coma induced dream. King Arthur, his King Arthur, was sitting on the sofa right next to him, looking at his with such an expression that it made his heart break.

Merlin took a deep breath. "When you had...gone...I couldn't accept it. So I called the Great Dragon. I wanted him to help me. To help you. He took us to the lake of Avalon on his back, but when we got there it was already too late. There was nothing he or I could do." Merlin paused, the guilt still roiling inside him, even after all this time. It was a feeling that would never fade, he knew.

"Go on," Arthur whispered.

Merlin nodded his head, more to himself than to Arthur. "You were gone and I was distraught. I begged Killgarah to do something, _anything_, but he was powerless in the face of death. Instead he told me that you were not just a king, but the Once and Future King. He said that you would one day rise again, when Albion was in it's greatest time of need." Merlin looked up and met Arthur's eyes. "And now here you are."

They sat there like that for a long time, just staring into each others eyes. Merlin watched the emotions flick across his friend's face, could see the utter confusion in his king's brilliant blue eyes. Oh how Merlin had missed those eyes! He had dreamed about those eyes, nightmares in which Arthur pleaded with Merlin to save him, dreams in which those eyes flared with fury, demanding to know why Merlin had failed him, accusing him of not trying hard enough, of being weak and foolish. But as Merlin looked into Arthur's eyes now, he saw none of that. All he saw was a kind of grief, and of course the ever present confusion.

Finally Arthur broke the silence. "So, if I have been, um, dead, then...where are we? Because this most certainly is not Camelot."

Merlin cleared his throat, "Actually, Sire, I believe the right question to ask is _when _are we," he said quietly.

Arthur's eyebrows rose, and his mouth hung open in a perfect O. Merlin allowed himself a small chuckle when he saw this, but quickly sobered when he thought of all that he had to explain and the tale he had to tell.

"You see, Arthur, you've been dead for well over a thousand years..."

Arthur had to give himself a mental shake at these words.

_ Over a thousand years..._

No, no. That couldn't be right. For one, people didn't just die and then come back to life thousands of years later. It just didn't happen. For another thing, if it _had _been that long then surly Merlin wouldn't,_ couldn't_ be here. And if it really had been that long, then that meant that...that everyone that Arthur knew was long dead. Gone forever (unlike him, it seemed). Gwen, Leon, Gaius, Percival, Gwain, all of the court and the entire city of Camelot. His beloved kingdom...

"No," whispered Arthur.

Then, louder and with more conviction, "No! That can't be right Merlin, I think I would know if I had been dead for over a thousand years. I'm not an idiot." He jumped up from the couch and spun around to fix Merlin with an angry glare.

Merlin responded with a sympathetic look, and it slowly dawned on Arthur that he was throwing himself into denial. He had seen all of the odd contraptions in the apartment, the funny clothes Merlin was wearing, the way that Merlin had said _not for quite some time now..._But even as Arthur realized this, he stubbornly refused to believe his own conclusion. Instead he continued to glare at Merlin as if he were the cause of the king's great misfortune. Sighing, Merlin began to rise from the couch.

"Where do you suppose your going?"

"To get proof," was Merlin's halfhearted reply.

Arthur watched as Merlin rummaged around at the kitchen table and turned back to him with some large papers covered in writing. Arthur peered closer at the words, and found that he couldn't read any of it.

"Here," Merlin said, shaking open the paper. "This is called a newspaper, it has news on all the current events." He stuck the paper in Arthur's face, pointing to something written at the top right hand corner. "This is today's date. January 13, 2013."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, unable to think of a way to discredit the information because his mind kept bombarding him with an ongoing chant of _NONONONONONO_. Arthur found it increasingly difficult to control his breathing, his breaths coming faster and faster, shorter and shorter, until they became erratic and he started to hyperventilate. Merlin reached out and placed a comforting hand on his back, soothingly rubbing it in circles while Arthur tried to regain control of his breathing. But every time it seemed that he had gained some composure he would think again of everything that he had lost, and the cycle would start all over again. Upon seeing this, Merlin left and came back a moment later with a paper bag. "Breathe into this, Arthur," he said quietly, holding the bag out to his friend and leading him back to the sofa.

The king grabbed the bag from Merlin and proceeded to do as the warlock had instructed. After several minutes of deep breathing into the bag, Arthur looked up, tears threatening to spill over from his eyes.

"C-Camelot..." Arthur stuttered. "It's gone?"

Merlin averted his eyes and twiddled his thumbs in a way familiar to Arthur. "Yes," he whispered. Arthur could see tears starting to form in the man's eyes, and he knew that Merlin shared his pain, though he had been hiding it well.

The two men sat there on the sofa, side by side, for quite some time, Arthur silently cursing the world for it's cruelness and Merlin caught between elation at his friend coming back to him and unimaginable sadness, not unlike that which he had battled so many times before this.

After what seemed like days, but was probably just about an hour, Arthur dragged himself out of his reverie and cast his baleful gaze on Merlin, who was staring at his hands folded in his lap with a slight grimace. "Merlin," he murmured.

The warlock tore his eyes from his hands and looked at Arthur. "Yes Arthur?"

Arthur hesitated, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer to his question, but the burning need and desire in his chest for some sort of closure chased the words out of his mouth.

"What happened? I mean...what happened to...everyone...while I was gone?"

This was a bad idea, thought Merlin. I'm not ready to talk about this, I should have just let him keep thinking...Thinking what? That they were in a different place? That Camelot was still alive and well? That all of his friends and family were just waiting for him to come home, to rule the kingdom once more? But that would have been cruel, he thought. To allow his best friend to carry on like that, thinking that everything was okay, not knowing that so much had changed. That everything he knew was long gone, that the world had moved on without him. But still, it was bad enough that he had to deal with this new modern world, let alone the story of how his entire world was lost to time...

Merlin gave a great internal sigh. No, he thought, it'll have to happen eventually, best get it all out of the way now.

"What happened? What happened indeed..."

Merlin turned to rake Arthur with his stare, looking him up and down before opening his mouth to speak.

Slowly, he began, "After you died, I stayed by the lakeside for four days. I didn't eat, didn't sleep, hardly even moved. I just sat there, staring out over the water...When I finally gathered enough will power to move, I made my way back to Camelot. It was a long trek without the horses, but I didn't mind. I needed the solitude and exercise to clear my head. It helped to...thaw me out, I guess. I was still so numb those first couple of days I got totally turned around several times." He gave a halfhearted chuckle at his own obliviousness, and his eyes took on a slightly glazed look, remembering all those days alone, trudging through the forest, not caring what happened to him anymore. He had hardly wanted to go back to Camelot, he had tried to convince himself not to, that there was nothing there for him anymore. But deep down under all of the numbness he knew that wasn't true. There was still Gwen and Gaius, Percival and Leon. They still needed him. Hopefully.

Shaking himself back into the present, Merlin continued with his narrative. "I got to the city by nightfall, a week after I had set out from the lake. The guards almost didn't let me in, but luckily someone from the town had happened to catch sight of me through the gate and convinced the guards to let me pass. I went straight to the castle, to your-well, Gwen's-chambers. She was there, being prepared for bed by her maids, just as I had expected her to be. I didn't bother with the door handle, I was too intent on my purpose. I thrust the doors open, and just stood there in the doorway. I must have looked truly terrible, for when she saw me she immediately dismissed her maids and burst into great sobs the moment they were gone." He said all this very quietly and calmly, and when he looked to Arthur, he saw that the great King's eyes were overflowing with silent tears.

The sight almost broke Merlin. To see the man he had known to be so fearless and confident so broken up...well, it didn't bode well for Merlin's own already fragile emotional state.

"Maybe we should continue this tomorrow, Sire?" he inquired slowly, his throat tight with suppressed tears. "After all, it's getting late and-"

"No," Arthur interrupted him. "I need-" he took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut, calming himself before continuing. "I need to hear it all. Tonight. Otherwise I'll just be driven mad not knowing. Please, Merlin."

Merlin was taken aback at this, Arthur never said please. Had he not said that word, Merlin would have been tempted to refuse and go to bed and finish the tale the next day when both he and Arthur weren't so emotionally drained. But with that simple word spoken from the lips of his king and long lost friend, Merlin felt obligated to finish his story before the night was over. With that Merlin opened his mouth to speak once again.


	3. Chapter 3

"I held Gwen in my arms as she sobbed, all through the night. I didn't cry, I didn't have enough energy to shed anymore tears. She did not ask me to to tell her what had happened, and I was grateful for that. Besides, she had known the moment she saw me. In the morning Leon came to check on Gwen, having heard the maids whispering about my return the previous night. When he saw me, still holding Gwen in my arms, he didn't ask me to explain either. He simply fell to his knees in front of his Queen and gave her a great, informal, totally inappropriate hug. And then he left."

Merlin's eyes were watering, the tears threatening to spill over. He took several deep breaths to steady himself, and then continued on.

"Gwen was crowned ruling Queen of Camelot the next day. She wanted to wait, out of respect for you and so that she could properly mourn, but the council was concerned that other kingdoms would take advantage of Camelot's temporary weakness. So she sat on that throne, stoically, scepter in hand, while a crown was placed on her head, and the people pledged themselves to their Queen."

He paused and turned to Arthur, who had slumped over and put his head in his hands. "You would have been proud of her, Arthur. She was so beautiful that day. No tears, no pain visible on her face. She took your burden with grace and strength, and she wore it well." Then, quieter, "She refused to wear your crown. She tried to refuse your throne as well, but the council would not allow that."

Arthur moaned and whispered a broken "My Guinevere," his shoulders shaking with grief. Merlin nodded, the tears finally spilling over his already puffy eyes. He thought about all the times that Gwen had wept at night, all the times she had begged him to sleep in her chambers because she couldn't bear feeling so alone. How she hadn't cared that it was improper and would start rumors, she only wanted to hear another person's slow breathing besides her own. Of course, he wouldn't tell Arthur that, it would only upset him further. After several minutes, Arthur's breaths calmed and he motioned for Merlin to continue.

"Gwen was a great Queen, Arthur," he paused, "but she was an even better mother." Arthur looked up, an expression of shock on his tear stained face. "Mother," he mouthed the words, no sound escaping from his lips. Merlin smiled at him, happy to be able to give his friend some good news.

"Soon after her coronation, Gwen started to feel sick in the mornings. It went on for two weeks before anyone found out, she hadn't thought it was important enough to worry anyone with it. I walked in on her one morning retching into the chamber pot, and I immediately towed her off to Gaius. After a quick examination, Gaius announced that she was with child. After she got over her surprise, Gwen was elated." Merlin smiled at the memory, Gwen staring at her only slightly protruding belly in wonder, cooing to her unborn child. "She gave birth to a son, and she named him Wilhelm."

Merlin heard a choked cry break from Arthur, but when he looked over Arthur had replaced his head in his hands and was sitting still. Merlin felt a stab of guilt, deep in his gut. He couldn't remember a time when he had seen Arthur so distraught, not when Uther died, not when Gwen left, not through all of the various betrayals and hardships that he had endured. He had remained strong through all of those, but what he saw before him now was, by all means, a broken man. He had lost everything. Merlin at least had been prepared, been aware that whatever was important to him was only transitory and he would eventually lose it and he would have to move on. Arthur, on the other hand, had been taken from the world, kept unawares for hundreds of years while everything he knew was torn apart and discarded, and then thrust back into reality without the slightest inkling of what was going on. And Merlin couldn't help but fear that he had been part of the cause of that, and if not the cause then he certainly hadn't been any help. He hadn't been able to save Arthur, or Morgana, or Mordred, or Gwen or her child or any of the knights. He had done nothing, had sat there unchanging while the rest of then, _his friends,_wrinkled and grew old and frail and passed on. He couldn't count all the times that he had lay awake in bed, or rocking in a chair, thinking that if only he had been faster, braver, cleverer, then maybe he could have saved Arthur and none of this would had happened. In that moment, watching Arthur grieve over his long lost wife and the child he never knew, all the guilt and pain and wretchedness that Merlin had fought to hold back, that he had built a dam against, came flooding out, searing his blood and crushing his lungs. All the pent up anger and frustration and sorrow rushed through his body and set him on fire while slowly drowning him. It was almost too much to bear.

But Merlin pushed it back down, knowing that now was not the time to break down, when Arthur was sitting there beside him, _finally,_needing Merlin far more than he was ever needed before. Merlin would deal with his own emotional instability later. Now his friend needed him.

Placing his hand on the king's back, Merlin asked softly, "Arthur, do you mind if I...if I use a bit of magic?...I'd like to show you something."

Arthur shook his head. No, he didn't mind, Merlin could do as he pleased, for Arthur was far to wrapped up in his own thoughts to care.

Merlin nodded and took a deep breath through his nose. Then he started to mutter "_Aetiewe me tha ic sece._"

Waving his hand through the air, he spoke the words again. After another moment of chanting the spell, a sort of smoky mirror began to take shape, floating in the air in the middle of the den. Merlin bid it come closer to where he and Arthur sat on the couch. The king had yet to raise his head, so Merlin gave him a slight nudge with his shoulder. Arthur looked up to find the mirror positioned exactly in front of him, almost obnoxiously close. Arthur shied away from the magical mirror, narrowing his still puffy and reddened eyes in suspicion and glancing at Merlin.

"I can't bring them back, Arthur," said Merlin slowly. "But I can at least let you see them. Watch."

Merlin closed his eyes and positioned his hand in front of the mirror. Then, opening his eyes, they flashed a brilliant gold, and the conjured mirror suddenly came to life. Merlin strained to recall the faces that he had once known so well. He was sad to realize that after so much time the images of his friends that he held in his mind had faded and warped. He could no longer remember the exact shade of their hair, the angle of their noses, or the shape of their jaws.

He wrestled with his hazy memories for several moments before projecting one into the mirror. It was a memory of one of the many afternoons spent strolling around the castle with Gwen and Wilhelm, the boy holding onto his mother's hand with both of his and stumbling through the grass. Gwen wore a soft pink gown, the bottom barely skimming the ground as she walked. Wilhelm's hair, almost the exact same shade as Arthur's, shone in the afternoon sun. As they watched, the child suddenly came to a halt, only just avoiding being pulled along by his mother. He bent down and picked what appeared to be a dandelion from the grass and handed it to Gwen with a grin on his still slightly chubby face. Gwen smiled gently at her son and gave him a delighted thank you. She then took the weed from his small hand and held it out in front of both of them. Then, closing her eyes, Gwen and her son made a wish and blew on the dandelion together, scattering the seeds in the breeze.

"Wilhelm was about two and a half years old in that memory." Merlin said this staring straight ahead, into the mirror that still held the image of Gwen and her son strolling peacefully across the grounds. He didn't want to see the pain on Arthur's face.

After a moment spent in silence, Merlin again took hold of the mirror with his will and replayed another memory on it, the concentration it took to get all the details right almost giving him a headache. This time the image was one of Wilhelm sitting in a chair, looking to be about seven or eight. Merlin sat across from him, dressed in a nicely tailored blue jacket, his trousers tucked into soft leather boots, and his ever present red neckerchief tied expertly around his neck, looking every bit the nobleman he now was. A parchment and quill rested on the table between them.

_"_Mer_lin," said Wilhelm. The warlock couldn't help but think just how much the boy sounded like Arthur, saying his name with the same inflection that Arthur had done, his tone slightly arrogant, despite being raised by Gwen and possessing all of her gentle qualities._

_ "Can we learn about something else? Please? I'm _bored_."_

_ Merlin in the mirror gave an exasperated sigh, as if he'd already had this conversation with the young prince several times over. "I am your tutor, Wilhelm, and until your mother fires me or I die, I get to choose what we learn about, and when we learn about it. It's no use complaining. Besides, the history of the five kingdoms isn't that bad. It's actually quite interesting if you would only pay attention."_

_ The boy crossed his arms and pouted, sticking his lower lip out as far as it would go and glaring at Merlin._

_ "But I'm _bored _Merlin! How am I supposed to pay attention when all I can think about is all of the other fun things there are to do besides learn history? Why can't you teach me about battles and dragons? I don't care about who said what to make which alliance with whatever kingdom."_

_ Merlin in the mirror rolled his eyes and didn't answer, knowing that if they continued on this subject it would never end. In a way it was a lot like he and Arthur's relationship. They would get in an argument and just go around in circles with it, finding no end until one of them gave up or it turned into good humored banter. Thinking about Arthur suddenly gave Merlin an idea._

_ "How about" said Merlin with a sly grin, "we learn about your father and what he did for the kingdom?"_

_ Wilhelm's scowl lessened a little at the mention of his father, and he slowly straightened up, trying desperately not to show how much the subject interested him. _

_ "I guess that would be okay," he mumbled._

_ Merlin in the mirror raised his eyebrow in the perfect imitation of Gaius. Mentioning the young prince's father was almost always a surefire way to get the boy to pay attention._

_ "Well then," said Merlin, drawing the parchment and quill to himself, "I guess we'll start with the Pendragon lineage. I'm sure there is a tapestry around here somewhere with a family tree on it..."_

With a wave of his hand Merlin erased the memory from the mirror. He remembered those lessons quite well. He had enjoyed being Wilhelm's tutor, enjoyed spending time with the prince and every once in a while reminiscing about his time with Arthur to the boy. He had always been fascinated with his father's adventures and achievements. After all, he had been told constantly that his father was a great man, but he never got much of an explanation as to _why_ that was. It was good for both teacher and student, friend and son, to have that time together.

"You were his tutor?"

Merlin was brought out of his reverie by Arthur's question. "Among other things," he replied.

Arthur gave him a quizzical look, and Merlin gave a sigh, getting ready to list off all the titles he had gained throughout Gwen's and Wilhelm's reigns as monarch.

"After you died, Gwen named me First Adviser to the Queen. Shortly after that I was named as Court Sorcerer. When Wilhelm was born I became his Godfather, and when he was old enough to start schooling I tutored him until he was ten. Then he moved on to other subjects with teachers more specialized than I. Gwen and I built a School of Magic, and I was the Headmaster of that. We trained sorcerers to join the knights and to fight with them, using sword and word together. Eventually we formed an elite group of sorcerers who were charged with protecting the city; I was a part of that group."

Arthur was staring at Merlin wide-eyed, a look of shock plastered onto his face. Merlin chuckled.

"What's the matter sire? Are you really so shocked that I would stay by Gwen and your son?"

"No, no, it's not that..."

Merlin gave Arthur a small smile, encouraging him to continue.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Well, it's just...I never expected that magic would be brought so fully back to Camelot. I just can't imagine it."

"Oh. Well, it was beautiful. I wish that...that you could have seen it. You should have. Gwen shouldn't have had to bring it back. It was always supposed to be you..." Then, more quietly, "I will never forgive myself for that."

Merlin felt his throat constricting, felt tears gather in his eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. He had meant what he said; he would never forgive himself for letting his friend die. He should have been there to protect him, to keep him safe. That's what he had done for years, what he had been trying to do even when he felt all was lost. Arthur had been his destiny, his whole life, and he had let him slip through his fingers. He hadn't heeded Killgarah's advice, he had been too cowardly. He had seen the future and been given the chance to change it, _multiple times_, and still had done nothing to prevent Arthur's demise. He was useless, and a failure, and currently, an emotional wreck unfit to take care of a time warped king in the middle of the modern age. He may have looked young, but he was ancient. His nerves were frayed, his memories hazy, and his mind tired. Arthur didn't deserve to have to take care of Merlin as well as himself, he did not deserve to burden himself with an emotionally drained, useless old warlock like himself. Merlin felt an intense self-loathing come over him, and he burst into tears.

He immediately felt a hand descend on his shoulder, and felt himself being turned to face his friend.

"Merlin," Arthur's voice was filled with desperation. "Merlin, please...you can't do this to yourself. It's not your fault, none of this is your fault! I-I am the one who is to blame, I should have listened to you, I-"

"No Arthur!" Merlin could not stand his king to cast all of Merlin's faults and regrets on himself. "You don't understand. I was to protect you, I was supposed to be by your side. But I left you, unprotected, alone, and because of that you were wounded. And then I failed to get you to the lake in time. I was so close but I failed!" Merlin stopped to take a shuddering breath.

"I didn't listen to the advice I was given, I didn't take the chances that I had. If I had you would have lived, would have had a long life with Gwen, gotten to see your son, gotten to raise him. It would have been you to bring magic back to Camelot and you to unite the land. But instead I have been cursed to walk this god-forsaken earth waiting for you to return. And now that you have I'm hardly fit to take care of you. You'll more than likely have to take care of me..."

By this point Merlin was just rambling, his voice still thick and his shoulders sagging with the weight of a thousand years of waiting and grieving and loss.

Arthur took Merlin by the shoulders and shook him. "Listen to me, Merlin."

"Arthur-"

"I said listen to me!" Arthur held Merlin in a vice like grip, searching his tear stained face to make sure he was paying attention.

"It doesn't matter what we did or didn't do in the past. As much as it hurts me to say it, that...that time is gone. All of the mistakes that we made are gone. We can't torture ourselves thinking about what we can't change now. Especially you, Merlin. You've broken yourself, living in the past for however many years it's been. I know it hurts. It hurts me, too. And I can't imagine what that must have been like, endless waiting. But you have to forget it, Merlin...well, maybe not forget, no. Never forget. But move on. And forgive. You have to forgive yourself. We both do."

Merlin slowly nodded and leaned into Arthur, utterly exhausted. He'd built up so many walls against all the pain over the centuries, never letting it amount to any more than a dull ache in the back of his mind, a quiet hitch in his breath when he lay awake at night. But now, he had broken all those walls. He had taken a sledgehammer to them and reduced them to rubble. He hadn't even bothered with the many layers of his barriers. Everything had come down with a resounding crash and every emotion, every moment of anger, regret, guilt, grief, and terror came over him, drowning him. But there, feeling Arthur once again alive and breathing next to him, Merlin felt calmed once more. His mind cleared and he reminded himself that this was the moment that he had been waiting for. His destiny could resume, he could pick up the pieces of his life again because his other half was there to do it with him. The relief that his waiting was over washed over him, shrouded him in it's warm folds. He couldn't give up now, could not fall to pieces. He had to keep going. He would not let Arthur down again.

"Thank you," said Merlin, pulling away. A new determination had filled him. He was ready to do whatever it took to help Arthur, to keep him safe. Whatever challenges they faced they would face together. Merlin felt a sort of giddiness well up inside of him at the thought. The two of them, adventuring together again, just like they used to. When both were young and still full of wonder at the world, and maybe not carefree, but not quite so tired as present.

Nodding his head to himself, the gleam of a renewed purpose in his still wet eyes, Merlin turned to Arthur.

"I could show you the rest of...what happened to everyone after you left, if you like. Or if you're tired, we can go to bed and continue this in the morning. It is rather late, after all. And we have tomorrow. We don't have to rush this."

Before Merlin had even finished, Arthur was shaking his head.

"No. As I said before, I need to know. If I wait, then it will only be harder. And I won't be able to sleep anyways."

"Alright," said Merlin with a sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. He took a deep breath and prepared to plunge himself into another memory to reflect on the mirror, and held out his hand. However, just as the depths of the smoky mirror began to stir with the coming memory, Arthur gripped Merlin's arm and pulled it down. Merlin gave Arthur a quizzical look, and Arthur returned it with a gentle frown.

"Why don't you just tell me what happened. Just talk. We agreed to forgive and move on. I don't think I could do either of those things if I could see their faces. Any of them."

Merlin, relieved that he also wouldn't have to bear the onslaught of memories, waved his hand through the conjured mirror, scattering the smoke as it vanished. He settled back into the sofa and clasped his hands in his lap.

Merlin took a long moment to organize his thoughts before he spoke, and Arthur waited patiently, for which Merlin was grateful. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

"It was about eight months after you left that Gwen gave birth to your child. During that time she was named ruling Queen of Camelot, and I First Advisor. Gwen figured out that I had magic while I was with you, those last few days. When I returned, she told me that she wanted to return magic to the kingdom. We worked to convince the council and abolish the policies against sorcery for almost a year. Finally, almost exactly three months after Wilhelm was born, magic was made legal again. It was then that she named me Court Sorcerer. We called all of the surrounding magic using kingdoms to Camelot to organize a peace treaty and to forge alliances. The talks were successful, Gwen showed her true strength and wisdom as Queen and won the respect of the kingdoms that attended. And so magic came back to Camelot."

Merlin paused in his narrative and glanced at Arthur. Arthur was nodding his approve at his late wife's decisions and actions. Merlin himself was smiling as remembered how Gwen had conducted the meetings with eloquence and grace, but firmly kept control of the visiting dignitaries. She had won their respect and well wishes, although having a three month old Wilhelm around had seemed to soften their hearts towards her. The meetings had been a massive success, a bright in the ever lightening future after so dark a past. It had only been littered here and there with black voids, mercifully scattered far apart from each other.

"With the newly lifted ban on magic came an influx of sorcerers, from within the kingdom and out. The sudden change in...social dynamic, caused lots of unrest for several years. Prejudices were being torn down and new ones formed, jobs were being created and discarded, everyone was trying to adjust to the mixture of old religion and new, sorcerers among the normal population openly using their powers for the first time in nearly thirty years. All of these changes resulted in revolts, protests, skirmishes between the citizens of Camelot." Suddenly Merlin's voice became darker, brooding, pained.

"It was during one of these revolts that Percival was killed."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, so I know that it has been a SUPER long time since I updated, and I really hope that hasn't cost me anyone's interest in the story...But here it is! The fourth chapter! FINALLY! This chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but you know how that goes. When you have a lack of inspiration and a hectic schedule, the writing usually suffers. But that's still no excuse for me not updating! Again, so sorry, and please enjoy this new installment of Until That Day Comes.**

"It was during one of these revolts that Percival was killed."

Arthur jerked his head up at those words, an expression of shock contorting his features. He had known that all of his knights and subjects were long dead, but it was surreal to hear it actually said. He hadn't given much thought to the actual implications of them being _dead_, just _gone_. Merlin had said that Percival was killed. Arthur couldn't imagine it, a sword being thrust through Percival's body, him collapsing, bleeding out on the ground. Or had he been struck and then taken to Gaius, only for the wound to be too severe or too late? Was it painful, slow? God, he hoped not.

As if reading his mind (who knew, maybe he could, the man _was_ a sorcerer after all) Merlin brought Arthur's attention back to himself with a gentle tug on his sleeve. "It was quick, Arthur. Hardly any pain. The people had gotten out of hand, they were becoming violent, so Gwen sent out the knights to put things in order and calm the riot. It was between magic users and nonmagical, in the lower town. When they started to fight, the sorcerers began to throw around spells. The knights had not been trained to fight sorcerers, they had no idea how to handle a magical riot. The best they could do was to block intended spells with their swords. There must have been some sort of radical in the crowd who was using truly dangerous spells, because people- knights and peasants alike- were falling wounded. Percival was targeted by this sorcerer. He was trying to protect another knight, who had fallen, and the sorcerer struck while his back was turned. The spell was a common one, if only because it is so...so _easy_. It was just a blast of raw concentrated power, focused on Percival. He must have been thrown nearly twenty yards into the air, and when he landed, he broke his neck. I didn't even know until the people had been settled and the revolt put down. When I found him, Percival was...well he was already d-dead."

Arthur closed his eyes and tried to imagine a lifeless Percival, with all of his bulk. Tried to see in his mind's eye those clear and kind eyes blank in the cold stare of death, his limbs limp and unmoving, his neck twisted at an odd angle. Mouth hanging open and skin grey as stone. Arthur found that he simply could not imagine the gentle, warm knight cold and stiff. Lifeless on the ground. He wondered how many other corpses he himself had seen like that, _made _like that. He hadn't given a second thought to them, and yet there was a terrible empty Percival shaped hole in his heart now.

His thoughts turned towards the sorcerer who had been the cause of his friend's death. The spell had been easy, said Merlin. Just concentrated power. Did that mean that any sorcerer could use it? Had _ Merlin_ ever used that kind of force? Of course, Arthur thought to himself. He remembered when he was wounded, traveling with Merlin. He had thrown Morgana's men fifty meters at least, and they had tumbled down the hill, unconscious before they knew what had hit them. Arthur imagined, from what he had seen of the last battle at Cammlan and his proceeding journey with the warlock to the lake of Avalon, that Merlin was quite capable of anything beyond what Arthur could come up with. So then how many lives had Merlin taken in the exact same way as Percival, how many casualties had he been the cause of in every fight they had ever met?

Before he could stop it, the question that he had been asking himself came tripping from his lips.

"Merlin, have you ever killed someone with that spell?"

Arthur immediately felt his cheeks redden and his face grow hot and glanced sideways at his friend, embarrassed for his bluntness.

Merlin's eyes flickered down, his lips pursed and cheeks paling. Arthur knew the answer to his question as soon as he saw the expression on the warlock's face.

"Yes."

A moment of silence, then, "How many?"

Merlin's face completely drained of color and his eyes took on a haunted (more so than previously) look. His lips moved soundlessly for several seconds, until finally, a barely audible "Lots," passed them.

Arthur didn't want to hear anymore on the subject, he was sorry that he had asked in the first place. Merlin's answers scared him. Just how many was 'lots'?

A minute passed in silence, then Merlin cleared his throat, and continued with his narrative.

"We gave Percival a proper funeral, of course. One worthy of a Knight of the Round Table. Everyone attended and paid their respects, gave their thanks to him for his bravery and loyalty. Leon was effected the most, I think. He had grown especially close to Percival, in that first year, since they were the only original Knights of the Round Table left-"

Merlin was cut off by a bewildered Arthur's, "What?"

Arthur's friend stared at him with a bemused look. "What's the matter, Arthur?"

"Why do you say that Leon and Percival were the only ones left? What about Gwain?"

At the mention of the knight Merlin's whole countenance fell and Arthur felt a sort of dread enter his heart. What had happened to the man that would cause Merlin to wear such a forlorn expression at the very mention of his name?

"Merlin..." said Arthur with trepidation in his voice. Slowly, he enunciated each word. "What happened to Gwain?"

Arthur watched wearily as a single tear formed in the warlock's eye and rolled down the bridge of his nose, stopping and dangling at the tip for a moment before ever so slowly breaking away to splash onto the back of Merlin's clasped hands. In a passing thought Arthur mused that he might fill an entire moat with all of the tears that had been shed between the two men that day.

Merlin sniffled and shifted on the couch so that he was facing away from Arthur. He ran a pale hand through his raven hair, the muscles in his neck tightening, and Arthur recognized the movement, as if it hadn't been over one thousand years since he had seen it last. Merlin was gathering courage to say what he meant to. Arthur mentally prepared himself as he awaited Merlin's answer to his question, aware that whatever his friend might say he was not going to like it. Not one bit.

"While you and I were still traveling to the Lake of Avalon," said Merlin, his voice strained, "Gwain and Percival decided to go after Morgana themselves. Gwain wanted revenge. Morgana had manipulated him into giving her information by way of a young woman, who used his feelings for her to get important details and plans about the battle and about you. So they went off by themselves to hunt down a High Priestess of the Old Religion and kill her with a mortal blade." Merlin said this with bitterness, obviously still angry at both of the knights for their foolish and dangerous behavior.

Arthur was listening with rapt attention, also shocked by his knights lack of common sense and good judgment. He had never known either Gwain nor Percival to be foolish in any way (except for maybe Gwain's insistence on excessive drinking). He imagined that Gwain's feelings for this girl must have run much deeper than just the surface for him to do something so incredibly stupid and thick headed in retaliation to her betrayal.

As he was thinking this, a little voice in the back of his mind warned him that this was not the only reason why Merlin was so upset and bitter.

"There's more," said Arthur, thinking out loud. Merlin pursed his lips, a clear indication that Arthur's statement rang true. "Tell me."

Merlin closed his eyes and shook his head, silently begging Arthur not to make him tell him. But Arthur persisted. He'd be damned if Merlin was still keeping secrets from him after over a thousand years.

"Merlin," intoned Arthur, using his most kingly voice, "I order you to tell me what happened with Gwain."

Merlin stopped shaking his head, instead placing his head in his hands and slowly folding in on himself among the cushions of the sofa.

"You won't like it, Arthur."

Arthur's lips twitched at his statement. "Will I ever, Merlin?"

Merlin gave a small chuckle, though it sounded forced. But Arthur supposed it was just as well; there was nothing at all humorous about discussing their dead friends and former lives.

With his head still cradled in his hands, Merlin began in a hushed tone. "They found Morgana. They ambushed her and tried to kill her. They weren't thinking properly, tried to use mundane methods of attack. She stopped them, captured _them,_ and she...she tortured them. Gwain, I mean. She tortured Gwain with the Nathair-"

At the mention of the dreaded snake Arthur's eyes widened infinitesimally, his face paling even more than Merlin's. He suddenly had an idea as to why Merlin was so reluctant to tell him what had happened to his friend, and why he was so bitter about it.

"- in order to get information about you. Where you were going, who you were with, how far away you were, whether you were wounded or not. The Nathair, well, it was too much for Gwain. He gave in. He betrayed you."

When Merlin spoke the last sentence his voice became harsh and his eyes hardened. Arthur wondered when his lighthearted and ever cheery servant had become such a bitter young (old?) man. Though he figured that if he'd had a millennium by himself to dwell on these thoughts, then he might find reason to harbor a grudge as well. Even against one of his closest friends. Especially if he had inadvertently caused the death of his near brother and king.

Arthur took a closer look at Merlin. He had lines in his face that hadn't been there before. There was a glint in his eye that was hard to place; was it brought about by the spiritual age, or the bodily youth? And when had Merlin's eyes become so sunken? There was a faint scar across the side of his neck, almost as if someone had tried to slash it (had they?). Arthur was beginning to realize that this was not the same Merlin whom he had left on the shores of Avalon. This Merlin seemed so much more, and yet, so much..._less_. Arthur could see that there was no joy in life for him, not anymore. He looked tired, and lonely, and bored. Even sitting there next to Arthur, Merlin still looked completely listless. A pang of regret and guilt went through Arthur's heart at the thought of what his death had done to the young man sitting beside him, his faithful servant and closest (even first) friend. He made a silent vow to himself that he would bring the original Merlin back. He would not let his friend suffocate in his own bitterness any longer. He would find a way to revive the spirit that Merlin once had.

Merlin loudly cleared his throat, partly to bring Arthur out of the far away look he had on his face, and partly to dispel the tension and sour emotions and memories that talking about Gwain had brought to the surface. When he had realized that Gwain was dead, Merlin had been heartbroken. He had lost too much for such short amount of time. When he had found that Gwain had given up their location, that misery had turned to something else. Not quite hate, no, he could never really hate such a good friend, one only had to look at his relationship with Morgana to know that. But the sadness gave way to feelings of betrayal and disbelief. He'd had a hard time understanding how Gwain, even under torture, could give up their location. Merlin had been angry with him for the longest time. He couldn't even talk about the knight without going red in the face. Now, however, Merlin could see that it would have been near impossible for Gwain to hold out, because Morgana would not have stopped until she got the information that she wanted, and had Gwain died under torture, then she still had Percival to fall back on. Merlin tried to blame his grief and loneliness for his anger, but deep down he knew that it was no excuse. The anger that he had projected onto Gwain's betrayal had just been a magnified and concrete outlet for his anger at himself.

Merlin took pity on Arthur; his face was slack and his eyes disbelieving.

Yet more betrayal for Arthur to sort through and come to terms with, more wrongs against him that he would have to either forgive or forget. Merlin was suddenly glad, in that moment, that he had had centuries to sort out his feelings and separate them so that he could control them. With his ever increasing age had come much wisdom, and much better methods for filing and assessing his turbulent emotions, even learning to moderate them. And though the thought of his fallen friend and his unprecedented betrayal still stung and hardened his voice and face, he would not let it control his true feelings for the knight, nor let it ruin the first real happiness he had felt in centuries.

With an inward deep breath, Merlin said "Well, I think that's enough of that. It doesn't do to dwell on these things. Besides, it doesn't matter now."

After a moment's hesitation, Arthur nodded in agreement. Merlin could see from the way his brow creased ever so slightly in the middle and the way he set his jaw that he was still trying to process his new knowledge. Even after centuries, after his memory had long since gone fuzzy of those first several hundred years, he could still recognize these small signs, for he knew Arthur's face better than his own.

"What-" Arthur cleared his throat, "What happened after Percival was killed?"

Relieved to be moving away from the topic of their aggrieved and traitorous friend, Merlin continued with his story of days gone by.

"After Percival, Leon was the only original member of the Round Table left. He introduced many new knights into the circle in his time. He and I worked together to train and teach the knights how to fight against magic, to properly defend themselves. We didn't want to loose anymore friends to lack of knowledge. Leon remained Gwen's most trusted knight and a close confidant, one of few. After he retired he stayed near to Camelot, electing to purchase an estate just outside the city walls, instead of claiming and moving to his family's estate. For that, both Gwen and I were extremely grateful. He was always near, should we have needed him."

Merlin paused a moment, stealing himself for one of his more painful memories.

"And there did indeed come a time when we were in need of him..."

Merlin's voice was thick as he murmured the next sentence. "Not long after Leon left, Gaius...h-he passed on."

Although his voice cracked and was still thick with grief, the warlock did not shed a tear. He had already shed far to many that day, and over the years the pain of the loss of his mentor and father at heart had dulled considerably. Gaius had lived a good, long life, much longer than anyone had any right to. And when the time had come, the physician had been ready. He had passed to the next life in peace, not from any sickness or injury, but simply the natural process of aging. Of that Merlin was grateful.

Gaius had taught him everything, fostered and nurtured him into the man he had become. Merlin remembered him everyday of his life, and still lived by the lessons that the old man had instilled in him. He had saved some of his mentors books and treasures, but they had either been lost to age, like the physician, or destroyed by the many events that Merlin had lived through. Either way, there was nothing but memories left of his adopted father...

Merlin suddenly stood up from the sofa, effectively putting an end to his musings. After all, what had he just told Arthur? It didn't do well to dwell...that was what he had told himself everyday. As soon as he felt the grief and self-pity begin to well up, he would remind himself that it was no use, he couldn't do anything about what happened now. The art of moving on was difficult to master, but necessary. And master it he did.

Arthur watched his friend as he murmured those words, feeling that at last this was some burden that they could share. Arthur did not know the pain of watching everyone he knew slowly fading away. He could never imagine the loneliness of a thousand years spent waiting for something that he didn't even know for sure would happen. Nor could he know what it was to feel amazing age but at the same time young and fit, to hide a part of himself from the rest of the world because they wouldn't understand. He couldn't compare any of his experiences with those of Merlin's. But this, the loss of a father and mentor, this he could relate to. The days of numbness, passing through halls and crowds like a ghost. Waking up every morning expecting to see his father's face only to be harshly reminded that his father was gone, never to be seen or touched or felt again. The moment of realization when he understood and accepted that this was the way things were, and nothing he could do would change that. Arthur knew all about this, and so when Merlin suddenly jumped up and started to pace in front of the sofa, it was no surprise to Arthur. The agony and grief of losing a parent needed a physical outlet, of that the king was well aware. Even after years and years...

**Was that alright? Did I do good with Percival's death? I have to say this chapter was really difficult to write simply because I wasn't sure what way to approach subjects like the knights dying and and Gwaine. So please tell me what you thought, because reviews are extremely helpful! And I promise that the angst won't last forever, I just gotta work out all the past stuff before I can move on to Arthur and The Real World.**


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